


Flesh and Bone

by runawaynun



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Cancer, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaynun/pseuds/runawaynun
Summary: "Are your gods really so cruel that they’d command your own body to destroy itself so an ungrateful people could have a home?”
Relationships: Tory Foster/Laura Roslin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



I was high as a frakking kite when Laura Roslin informed me that her cancer returned. Her remission was over and it was as aggressive and widespread as it had been previously.

In my defense, it was not recreational drug use. I saved her life when a malfunctioning Raptor hit Colonial One. I stood between her and the bulkheads bending inward. Cottle said it was pure luck that I only dislocated my shoulder, something I strenuously disagreed with while he and Roslin put my shoulder back into alignment. The pilot told me that he heard my screams on the other side of the ship. I remembered agonizing pain, Roslin’s hand grasping my good shoulder and the concern in her eyes, and the slight sting of the morpha injection.

Cottle must have been quite generous in his dosage. I wasn’t aware of the passage of time seated in one of the original seats of the ship, humming the snatches of a melody from childhood that kept repeating in my mind. I wondered if the chair still reclined and if I could use it as bed until everything stopped hurting.

Roslin entered my secluded space tentatively. It surprised me. Both because I thought she’d stay on the Galactica and because she did very little tentatively. “Tory,” she said, sitting down across from me. “How are you?”

I tried to shrug but my body reminded me quickly that was not an option and winced instead. “In pain, but glad it’s not worse.” 

“Good, good.” The non-fuzzy part of myself noticed that she couldn’t keep her hands still. That usually meant something was wrong and Gods, I better get over this floaty feeling in order to deal with it. She let out a shuddering breath, which let me know it was going to be incredibly bad. She calmed her hands, folding them in her lap. “When I was on Galactica, I received some results from tests - medical tests.” She paused again and removed her glasses. “My cancer’s returned.”

That sentence sobered me up. “I’m so sorry, Madam President.”

I didn’t work for her the last time cancer ravaged her body. That had been Billy, who was softer, warmer than me. Who had been more of a family member to her than employee. I was not that. I was sharper, harder. A tool available to work her will. 

She swiped at her eyes. “I hate to put this burden on you while your injured, but I will need to lean on you considerably. I’m going to be spending a considerable amount of time on Galactica receiving treatment.” She grimaced.

I nodded, mentally rearranging schedules and working on contingencies. I made a mental note that I needed to start plotting the transition to the next president. It was not something I wanted to be doing, but l needed to be practical and smooth whatever path she may have to take. “I understand.”

“I don’t want the Fleet to know about it right now with Baltar’s trial. Everything’s so on edge already. I don’t need to add to it. Right now, only Cottle, the Admiral, and you know and I’d like to keep it that way until it’s over.”

I nodded. I knew what was going unsaid, that to reveal her illness would distract the media and the Fleet from Baltar’s guilt. The new hot topic of debate would be if she was fit to be president and then for how long. “You can count on my discretion.”

“Good,” she said, putting her glasses back on. “Good.” She laughed bitterly. “At least we know the Fleet is going in the right direction.”

I looked away, following her line of thought. 

“I’m the Dying — “ she swallowed hard. “You’ll have to find a discreet — for chamalla.”

“Of course,” I said, adding to the ever-growing list. She looked so distressed and vulnerable that I wanted to reach out to her. But I knew that any gesture she deemed as seeing her as weak would cause her to freeze me out, could cause her to lash out at me at an inopportune time when I needed her to trust me.

She stood up. “I’m going back to the Galactica. I just wanted to prepare you.”

“Good night, Madam President.”

She nodded and made her way out of my compartment. I had many long hours to fill until the ship’s morning and felt my shoulder start to throb. Frak. I did not want her to die. Selfishly, because I didn’t know what I would do after this job. But on a deeper gut level, I knew that she held this fleet together with tape and spit and sheer determination. Once she was gone, the remnants of humanity would tear themselves apart.

***

I had been surprised and flattered by Roslin’s - Laura, as she kept telling me after her election loss - invitation to bathe and do laundry in a secluded place on New Caprica. The communal showers were malfunctioning and tempers started to flare in the tent city.

It was a gorgeous location, the water cool against the heat of the day. We fell into a companionable silence, each absorbed in our own task like we had during the long hours of her campaign. After we set the clothing out to dry, we stripped down to bathe. It was probably only my imagination, but I felt the dirt and grime of the planet dissolve off of my body.

The water was clear and I could see every line and curve of her body. Gods, she was gorgeous. It was something I had objectively known on Colonial One, had tried to leverage it during the campaign. But for the first time, I allowed myself to look, and admit to myself that it had been her who had been filling my fantasies since the worlds ended.

I didn’t realize I was caught until she waded towards me, a smirk on her face. I ducked my head. “I’m sorry, Madam - Laura.”

She brought her hand to my chin, her hand cool against my skin. She tilted my chin upward and smiled at me. “Don’t be.” With that, she leaned in and kissed me.

I was surprised, but I supposed I had not been as subtle about my attraction as I thought. I had found any excuse to be close to her, to touch her. I tried to steal an election for her. Then she pulled me closer, and all that mattered was her mouth on mine, the feel of her skin, and her hands on me.

Later, we dozed in the late summer sunshine on a blanket she brought. She turned toward me, the sunlight gleaming off of her ever-present silver bracelet. “Are you happy, Tory?”

I hummed in contentment. “I have no complaints.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, no. Here on New Caprica.”

I paused. “It feels nice to be on a planet again, to feel the warmth of the sun, to have a natural day and night. But honestly, this feels like a pause. This isn’t home. What about you? Are you happy?”

“I try. I can’t shake the feeling that something awful is coming, but I try to enjoy my life while I can. This isn’t home, though. This isn’t Earth. Because if it was, I would be - “

“Dead.” I finished. “You were the Dying Leader.”

“I was. But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this is just a temporary pause. Indulge me, Tory. Did you believe? That I was the Dying Leader leading us all to Earth?”

At that point of time, I had been on a tiny ship in charge of the logistics of the Fleet. I was in charge of fuel allocation, others made sure each ship had a supply of food and water. It wasn’t until Roslin had advertised her need for a campaign manager that I moved to Colonial One. “I sided with you against the military. I made sure we jumped to Kobol with you.”

“That doesn’t answer the question. Did you believe?”

I was almost embarrassed by my answer. “Yes. I needed the Gods to have a plan for us. Now? I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. At the time, it was so clear, so simple. I’d give my life and save humanity. I had a purpose, a destiny and my suffering, my sickness meant something. Now I’ve lost that. I’m still alive. I’m still healthy. Was I just a delusional, mad woman? I’d like to think I wasn’t, but I’d like to live even more.”

I reached out and squeezed her hand. It seemed so pointless now, like it had happened in another life. I was glad she was living and breathing. I had no doubt she’d once again be humanity’s leader. But I could never recreate that fervent belief I had in the existence of the Lords of Kobol and their plan for humanity that I had those few days. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“This is frakking awful pillow talk,” she murmured as she pulled me closer and kissed me forcefully.

***

I stood in that bare room with Tigh and Tyrol and Sam and I knew in my bones I was a Cylon. I was a Cylon, even with my memories of my parents, childhood dance classes, secondary school student council campaigns and university paper op-eds. I was a machine. I was part of the race that had tried to wipe out humanity. That was still trying to, the warning klaxons told me.

I could still hear that damn song, filling my head, vibrating in my cells, both completely wrong and right at the same time. The men in the room sputtered about their duty and their suffering, trying to justify their continued existence. I didn’t bother. They were relatively safe. The admiral would protect his best friend, the only man who could keep his fighters in the air, and even his surrogate daughter’s widower. He was emotion driven, loyal to those he had attachments to, even to the detriment of the Fleet.

I did not have that luxury. Laura Roslin would put me in an airlock without a second thought. Nothing we experienced together - the election, New Caprica, this administration - would mean a single thing. I was a Cylon. I was a danger to humanity. I would have to go.

And the Fleet would cheer her on. I remember when Fleet gossip related the story of her spacing the Cylon who dared to touch her. I was there when she spaced the one who had prayed with her just hours earlier.

I needed to be careful. Much more careful than Saul Tigh who I followed through the corridors of Galactica. She was already frustrated with me after my outburst at the press conference when I accused the press of being vultures, waiting to feed on her carcass. At the time, I thought it had merely been sleep deprivation clouding my judgment combined with my desire to protect her. 

It had been a whole shift in consciousness. Now I had to wonder if I had been designed to undermine her at every turn. If I had failed at rigging the election because I was -

No. That type of thinking would get me killed.

We arrived at CIC. I was grateful for the current threat because it meant that the panic in Tigh and my eyes wasn’t out of place, it was expected. I stood next to her, her body made of frail flesh and blood, ravaged by the cancer drugs and the stress of Baltar’s trial. I wanted to reassure her, to protect her, to keep myself safe.

“I’m here if you need me, Madam President,” I told her, despite the fact there was little I could do for her here on the brink of annihilation.

She ran her hand reassuring along my arm. Perhaps we had a connection. Perhaps we’d survive.

***

The day the Cylons came to New Caprica, I prepared lunches. As a political operative for the former president, I was considered an unskilled worker. Usually, I worked in laundry and on the worst days, sanitation.

It was a pathetic amount of food, still mostly algae based like it had been in space. I and the woman next to me - Joan from Gemenon, I remember the similarity between the two names - tortured ourselves remembering the taste of plums. We heard a disruption outside, fear and panic and confusion.

When I stepped outside and saw the raiders flying above, my stomach fell to my feet. I had bought into a small part of Baltar’s dream that we’d be safe from the Cylons. I had settled into Laura Roslin’s tent and her bed, had let myself live a bit while I could as she always told me. Laura. I needed to find her before anything happened to her. The Cylons would seek out threats to them and she was much more of one than Baltar was.

I shook Joan’s hand off of my arm and took off running. The school tent was on the other side of the settlement. My body, even after a year on the planet’s surface, was not used to going full speed under natural gravity and the cold air. My chest burned as I hoped that she would be fine, that no one would start shooting until I could find her and put her somewhere safe.

Safe, I thought bitterly. There hadn’t been anywhere safe since the bombing of the Colonies. How had such a short time on this planet made me forget this?

I took the long way across the settlement, delayed by the parade of centurions marching. I burst into the school tent, completely out of breath. Laura had the children calmly seated and she was still alive and free. Tears pricked my eyes as I bent over to catch my breath. “Oh, thank the Gods,” I gasped out.

She came over to me and lightly placed a hand on my back. “Tory, Maya and I are going to distract the younger children until their parents can pick them up. Why don’t you help the older children.”

I looked up at her puzzled. “What do I know about teaching teenagers?”

She gave me a tight smile. “You’re an organizer. Go and organize them before they do something stupid and get themselves killed.”

While Maya and Laura read and sang with the younger children, I went to the teenagers and built the building blocks of the resistance. We created maps of the settlement and created lists of what settlers had what skills and where they were located. A store of knowledge but nothing that would implicate them, nothing that would endanger them.

I saw the fear and determination in their eyes. I hoped that before this was over, we weren’t sending children to their deaths. As parents started to trickle in to pick up their children, I repeatedly told them to be smart, to not get in trouble.

When Laura and I were the only ones left in the tent, she slumped against her desk. Her jaw worked, processing her frustration, fear and rage. I moved toward her, wanting to provide a measure of comfort. Before I could do that, she pushed away from the desk, walked over the chalkboard, and shoved it over.

She whirled toward me. “The Cylons. The frakking Cylons. If I could, I’d kill every single one of them.” She breathed hard, her fists clenched.

I ran my hands up and down her arms, squeezed her forearms. “We’ll do what we can.”

***

Once the President recovered from the nausea of her diloxin treatment, she liked to take a shower. She told me that between the drugs and the nausea, she felt like she had crawled on the bottom of the algae ship. Lately, the treatments made her so weak, she needed someone to help her remain standing under the spray. It became my job to do so when the Admiral found her on the floor after the last treatment.

My head was swimming from what Baltar had told me, had told his entire congregation, so I welcomed a mindless task. The others had sent me to be their whore, to find out what he knew about the Final Five. Instead, I found . . .

I didn’t quite know. But I felt the most at peace I’ve been since my true nature was revealed to me. God, the Cylon God, loved me. This God only loved what was perfect, therefore I was perfect. Yes, the logic was circular but I could feel the truth of it. I was stronger than I was before. I was more perceptive than I was before. I was better.

But when I entered the Admiral’s quarters and saw her clinging to his desk, desperately trying to keep herself upright, I knew I was just as tangled up with this woman as I had been before. When she leaned against me, I felt how frail she was. As I helped her undress, I was shocked by how gaunt she had become, her familiar curves sharp where her bones jutted out.

“Tory, I’m going to need you to come in with me.” She looked so sheepish, but I knew how much it hurt her pride to ask. 

I nodded and she sat on the toilet while I stripped. Finally, slowly, we made it to the shower head, and when the water warmed, I maneuvered her under the spray. She sighed in relief, her head falling on my shoulder. Perhaps this was one reason for the new strength in my body, to serve this woman.

As I helped her wash, I could feel her relax against me. When she sighed, I realized how easy it would be to snap her neck with my new-found strength. I could simply remove the greatest threat to my continued survival, to the Cylons’ survival.

I didn’t know which one I wanted.

When I ran my hand through her hair to help her lather the shampoo, I found a clump of hair in my hand. “Oh no,” I gasped.

She let out a laugh with a slightly hysterical tinge to it. “Something else I’ll need your help with. I want to get rid of it. All of it.”

I swallowed hard. I had anticipated this moment but now that it was here, it felt too soon. “I found a few wigs for you to choose from. They’re on Colonial One.”

She squeezed my arm. “We shouldn’t waste the Admiral’s entire water ration.”

We stepped out of the shower and I dried her as best I could and wrapped her in a towel. I brought a chair in front of the sink. She wasn’t one who would want to look away from this loss. I found scissors and a razor and stood behind her uncertain of the next step.

She caught my eyes in the mirror. “I doubt it matters what you do. It’s all got to go.” 

Through a combination of the scissors and the razor, I removed her thick mane of hair. Hair that I had ran my fingers through, had manipulated to be more attractive in newspaper photos. I heard her sniff, but she refused to let any tears fall. She had me sweep it all into a wastebasket, except for one lock she kept for herself.

She ran a hand over her mostly bare head. The little bristles left would soon fall out. She cleared her throat. “I think I’d like to rest now.”

“Of course,” I helped her into her pajamas and into the bed. “I’ll bring the wigs tomorrow.”

She reached out and grabbed my hand. Her fingers felt brittle against my own. She looked like she had something to say to me, something important. After several moments, she gently squeezed my hand and closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, letting go.

***

On a gorgeous fall day before the Cylons came, I found Laura in the school tent after the school day ended. Instead of grading or planning lessons like I expected her to be, she stood in front of the chalkboard, grinning. The low sun gleamed in her hair, showing the red tints so rarely seen in the artificial lights of the ships.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and placed a kiss to her back. “What’s made you so happy?”

She placed her hands atop of mine. “The Tyrols had their baby. We get to add one more.”

“One more wh - “ I stopped when I realized that in a small corner of the chalkboard, she had the remaining population of humanity tallied. It didn’t surprise me, but I felt that the fact I hadn’t noticed before reflected poorly on me in her eyes. I embraced the mantra of living a little before we died but forgotten who she lived for. It certainly wasn’t me. “That’s great, Laura.” I squeezed her waist.

She hummed in agreement. We stood there in the setting sun, a light breeze lifting our hair. “It’s a good reminder,” I said.

“Of what?” she replied, joy still suffused in her voice.

“That that number is what you really love.”

“Tory - ”

“No,” I replied as she turned in my arms to face me. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” I brought my hand up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s what makes you such a great leader. It’s what makes you a great woman. It’s why I work for you. It’s why I love you.”

This took her by surprise. “Tory. I can’t - “

“I know,” I whispered before I leaned up to kiss her. When she kissed me back, her hands buried in my hair, I found that I didn’t care.

***

When Colonial One left New Caprica’s orbit, for a brief moment, I wept in relief. I don’t think anyone saw. We were all experiencing the adrenaline rush from fleeing the planet and wrestling with the memories of what we did and what happened there. I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled at the sight of Laura sitting behind her desk with a smile on her face. For the first time, since the election, the universe was correct.

The hours after that passed in a blur. I organized a census of the ships and searched for Maya and the child. When I received word that no one could find either of them, my stomach soured. I knew how important Isis was and how close Laura grew to Maya and her child. I stalled for as long as I could but eventually had to tell her. She calmly told me that it wasn’t my fault, that it was bigger than us, that it was life.

That should have warned me things had changed from New Caprica. But I was upset and worried and bone weary. The past few nights I lead evacuation drills and could only sleep in snatches during the day. But Laura most likely had slept as little as I did, if not less, since she still taught when she was not in Cylon custody. I would not leave her alone as long as she was working.

The rest of the passengers had settled down, leaving just us in her office. In the lull, it felt like we were the only ones on the ship, perhaps the universe. She pushed away from the desk, stretching her arms above her head. She stood and walked over the blank whiteboard. “He didn’t even care,” she said, disgusted.

“We should have an unofficial count in the morning,” I said. “The official count will probably take a few days with the chaos in the fleet.”

“Gods, how many have we lost?”

The distress in her voice made me act without thinking. I stood and wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling my nose against her cheek. Too late, I felt her stiffening.

“Tory, I can’t.”

I let her go. But I was tired and anxious and stubborn. “Why not?”

“Because that number is the most important thing. I can’t let myself get distracted from it. And it’s not fair to you.”

I knew that. Of course I knew that. “I don’t care, Laura.”

She shook her head and took several steps away from me. “No, Tory, we can’t.”

I knew that, too. I told her on the planet that I admired that, loved that about her. It still hurt. But part of helping her meant that I needed to follow her, even if I disagreed. I stopped myself from arguing with her. “Good night, Madam President,” I replied coldly. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Good night,” she replied to my retreating back.

***

I found her by the Hybrid, her knees tucked under her chin. She looked frailer than the last time I saw her before I left for the baseship, for my people. I sat next to her and listened to the babble.

“I like listening to her,” she told me. “She’s a voice without wanting something from me, without pity for my dying.”

“You don’t have to go back, Laura,” I said, annoyed that my voice betrayed the emotions swirling within me.

She sighed. “Oh, but I do.”

“Why? They tried to have a coup, to overthrow you. They were going to kill you. You don’t owe them anything.”

She turned her head to look at me. “They’re my people. I thought you’d understand.”

“I thought I did, too. But things are complex. Being seen as holy, as a messiah - it’s - “ I trailed off.

She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I know.”

“The Dying Leader. Are your gods really so cruel that they’d command your own body destroy itself so an ungrateful people could have a home?”

“Says the woman whose god commanded genocide in his name.”

This isn’t what I wanted to do. I didn’t want this conversation to derail into a heated argument about our theologies. I wanted to have endless days to talk to her about it, but apparently this was none of the gods’ will for this to happen. “I am so sick of death.”

“But that’s what your people wanted. The Six, Natalie, she formed an alliance with us to bring death to the Cylons. But it’s not so pretty close up, is it?”

“Why have you given up? You’re just going to lay down and let death come to you? Because last time you were this close to death, you fought tooth and nail. You stood up to Adama and Cain and anyone who tried to stand in the way of civilian rule. And Earth was just as far away as it is now. Yet every time we’ve - I’ve - tried to contact you, the Admiral answers.”

“The thing about dying is it is exhausting,” she said, turning her head away from me.

“And yet you want to go back to them. The people who either see you as a messiah or blame you for every misfortune.”

“It’s my job. It’s my duty.” I saw that she was agitated and annoyed with me. Her skin showed some color and she looked alert.

“Then frakking do it. Die knowing that you left humanity in a position to succeed and thrive.” My voice cracked and let some of the desperation I felt seep through. “Don’t just give up.” I brought my hand to her face and drew her closer. When I encountered no resistance, I kissed her. I tried to infuse her with some of my strength and my desire for her to live, even while knowing I could do nothing for her.

When she pulled away, she smiled at me, placing her hand on my cheek. “Maybe you were the one I was supposed to love,” she murmured.

“What?” 

She shook her head. “Never mind.” She brought her hand down and grasped one of mine. “It’s time I got back.”

After I helped her stand up, she leaned into me and kissed my cheek. “Help me, Tory. Help me build something for both of our people.”

“I will,” I smiled. “Madam President.”

I wrapped my arm around her waist and led her to her raptor.


End file.
